Chapter 15
Previously: Obsidian: Ash and Moonbeams – Chapter 14
“He’s the very best at being social, he always answers my baroness correspondence for me and he did circles around the people at that silly ball. Your Aesir can try being silly, but they’ll bite their fangs out on him socially, and when they try differently, they’ll get bitten by me and John. He always says that nobody gets to hurt his dracs. And duh, Quincy has a drac, he has more emotions than any silly fae could ever manage and he shows it all.”
Yes, she has her chin far up, she’s very proud of Quincy, as he deserves. And he likes her saying nice things about him. John always teases him that he’s a harlot for praise. Not that Quincy disagrees, so that must be okay.
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“Hmm,” Caliban makes again. “Okay, different kind of fangs, I guess. Sassy bitch, huh? Now I wonder what’d happen if he met Loki… They’d either hate each other or love each other, I bet.”
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“Quincy calls John’s fiance ‘bitch’, I think it’s a pet name.”
She’s still kind of grumbling about Ms Powlett getting to have a pet name and about John probably liking her, which she is well aware is mean and she keeps poking her drac to not be like that, but luckily she gets distracted from that train of thought. There’s the smell of blood and open flesh in the air- best she can tell with her nose getting numb from all the stink here. And her ears tell her something is close, too. It’s cacophonous, lots of different voices. “Calidear, what am I hearing?”
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He wanted to ask more about that situation- one of her men has a fiancée? And she’s pouting about it?, and makes a mental note to get back to that later- for now: “Ah, fuck.” He sighs.
They’ve backtracked to the undergrounder she killed earlier- and whose carcass is crawling with winged shapes, their bristly bodies brown with red stripes. From overhead comes a clicking and whistling that tells him they’ve already been spotted.
“The good news is, we’re back to where we started.”
Yeah, there’s the shrubby grey shadow of the forest she landed in. “The other good news is that those things are about to try and eat us.”
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“So, they’re not friends and you’ve been carrying me all this time… Dinner?” Following where he’s looking, she takes in the sight of what she normally would have squealed over for looking like some of the illustrations in her prehistoric fauna and flora books. But, of course, if they are going to be mean to them then no squealing. Hm, that flapping looks about as uncoordinated as her when she has to take off from the ground. “How good flyers are they? I might have a silly idea.”
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He pulls a slight face, because, yes, dinner, he’s hungry. It’s just going to taste like ass, as always. “Yeah, they’ll swarm us, and they’re annoying because you need to catch enough of them and break them to convince them to find something easier to eat. Don’t go up too high, that I’ve seen, and they’re not terribly fast- just faster than I can run on this sort of terrain. Why? Pretty sure you won’t convince them to give us a lift.”
They’re swirling up in a spiralling swarm, like a tornado of dark wings, heading towards them- there’s at least two dozen of them- more still perching and pecking on the carcass, apparently happy with the food they have.
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He said they aren’t friends, so she couldn’t talk to them in the first place, she’s sure. And anyway, that’s an absurd thought.
“Don’t be silly, I wouldn’t ask dinner to give me a lift first. That’d be mean.”
Considering his words and the strategy they will use, Darcy calculates it through. Normally, her and John do a quick battle brief, half in grunts and growls, before she decides, but her John isn’t here. So she’ll just have to do what she does best, follow her gut.
“Hold my ankles. I have the bigger wings. Either I can blow them out of the sky or I can trap a good number underneath me to make them easy to kill off for you.”
Giving him a grin, she turns to her big bat form again, tries hard to ignore the fact that her still-not-balls are basically right above Caliban’s head like this and tries her best to balance on him without sticking herself in place. The way she has to pull her wings back in preparation is really not helping. She can feel the air under her skin, but also feels too heavy. It’s all wrong! But luckily she doesn’t actually have to fly for this.
Doesn’t mean she’s not frustrated and lets the birds know that with one of those bat shrieks John always tells her he can’t hear but make their puppies cringe.
The birds deserve it, they’re being rude.
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He wraps his hands around her ankles, now furry, smirks. “Oh, you’re going to play bat net? Nice.”
Yes, it’s going to look incredibly silly, but if it works, who cares? Better than waving his arms around and missing half the time.
Ahead, the swarm swerves as if a wave had passed over it, but keeps coming. A moment later, the air around them is filling with fluttering, and clicking, and sharp, hard little mouths and claws darting for them. Individually, the things aren’t very big, maybe the length of Caliban’s forearm, their wingspan maybe three feet. They’re light, and fragile, you’ve just got to manage to hit them when everything’s all fluttering chaos around you.
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Hey, they don’t like her shriek! She can use that. But first, flapping her wings really hard. Come on, she’s bigger, so much bigger, Papa measured her at eight metres wingspan, those puny little things shouldn’t manage, especially if she keeps disorienting them by screaming at them.
Hah! She can see them tumbling when hit with the air, some even collide, she likes it. No, don’t giggle from your drac getting excited about the fight. You can’t giggle and shriek at once. Not even Quincy could manage that and he’s really good at shrieking.
Sadly, the things don’t know what’s good for them, so they reform and come back towards them. From overhead this time. Great, there’s no way she can lean back far enough to hit them with a good few wingbeats like that. Fine. Fine!
She has to wiggle her ankles free of Caliban’s grip, his nice, tight, strong grip… Come on, wolfbrain, fight first, fuck after, you know the normal order!
Mission Bat Net is a go, she can move her feet, but she still can hardly jump at all.
Darcy has to wait until the swarm is close, really close, to make sure she gets most of them. But they have no idea what she’s up to when she claps her wings together and lets herself fall forward.
How does Katharina always do that?
Right. She pulls her legs in between her wings and starts kicking and scratching at those that try to attack their cage.
There’s too many, she can’t scratch them all and she really can’t waste blood on more healing. What can she do? Right, shrieking more, that should disorient them, maybe the sound will bounce between her wings in the confined space. Just, now she’s really a ball on the ground. No space for Caliban to help, okay, feet back on the ground. Better, now she’s a tent. That should work.
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Having a giant bat bounce around on your shoulders is a very unique experience, and Caliban laughs while Darcy manages a sort of hop and hug with her giant wings.
Her movements definitely surprise and confuse the part of the swarm she didn’t catch, and Caliban snatches at one passing shape, crushes it with a squeeze of his fingers, and tosses it into the air to the others. That scatters them some more. As far as he’s seen, they don’t eat their own- right away. Only after some time will they come back for any corpses he’s left, maybe once they forgot that that was a member of their swarm. He ducks his upper body into the ‘tent’ Darcy is forming with her wings, and starts grabbing confused, irate, flapping shapes out of the air, breaking them and throwing them behind him.
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Looks to her as if Caliban is really good at this ‘breaking them until the big group no wanna anymore’. Also, right, she said dinner, and he’s tossing them about anyway, so she snatches one of them with her snout and gives it a test chew. There’s a crunch and the green flicker again, she killed it, or killed it with the violent shake she did because the flicker startled her. But no matter what, that one chew is enough to tell her, they really do taste terrible.
This is going to be the least romantic dinner date ever!
Did she just think that? Yes, she totally thought that.
But what can she say, her drac is dhampir bouncing all over the excitement of feeling alive, and her and Caliban work well together, she likes it! It reminds her of John, again. John totally would see this as a date if it was him. So okay, Quincy can giggle about her being supposedly weird at what she counts, but it’s not Caliban’s fault that the dinner is bad. She’ll enjoy her date best she can anyway.
With the next one, no, can’t get herself to swallow this, it doesn’t even taste like proper meat. How is that fair?
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Caliban laughs in sympathy at the wrinkled bat nose of disgust he can see illuminated by that Helheim magic glow that wisps into her every time her jaws dispatch another one when she tastes the thing.
“Told you, taste like ass,” he calls through the fluttering chaos.
The diminishing chaos, they’re down to a few stragglers, and he keeps hold of the next one he catches, cracks it open and starts to eat.
There are nips and scratches on his back from other ones attacking, but they got dislodged by his throwing of their swarm mates, and, as he looks around, it seems they’ve finally decided he and Darcy aren’t a good investment in terms of food. The stragglers are fluttering back to the dead undergrounder, where wings are flapped at them in threat.
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It’s probably time to stop fighting and just have gross dinner, but she said she’ll try to enjoy herself and they’ve been very direct and, well, she likes when her men do it, um, the dirty talking she means, okay, the other one, too, anyway, she turns human shaped to be able to talk.
“Not true. I’ve bitten my men on the ass and it tastes much nicer.”
Okay, she’s blushing, really hard, and giggling, but still, she managed to say it!
Doesn’t mean she doesn’t cheat right back to big bat before she manages to choke on dinner from being flustered. Also, easier to get these down, she doesn’t have to chew on them. Yes, she can just pick them up, throw her head back and get them down in one. Still, ugh, this is worse, so much worse than when Papa insists on her finishing her veggies.
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He bursts out laughing. As far as dirty comments go, it’s fairly tame, but she looks so flustered and yet pleased with herself that she sells it.
“Put your fangs into a juicy ass cheek or rim job?” he asks with a wink, even though she’s back to big bat, choking dinner down as fast as it will go.
Which he would too, if he had the option.
He tosses away the skin, bones and wings for other scavengers, scoops up another two of the dead ones, and starts walking again. “Haven’t found anything that tastes good here yet- probably because they all eat sulphur.”
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There’s a wink, but it’s still a question and she wants to be good, so, despite sticking her tongue out at the taste not getting any better back in human shape, she stays in it to talk. “Arthur and Quincy call me carnivore, but that’s for meat I like… Um, like my men. And Quincy always says that John is butt-shy, so only fangs there… Not that Quincy didn’t need convincing because he, what did he say, he got all hissy about being a top, thank you very much. I didn’t get that, I just wanted to lick all over him.”
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Interesting, now she’s not nearly as flustered. He gives her a curious look for it. “How come you’re going all blushing and giggling at making a mildly naughty comment, but talking about licking all over your men doesn’t do that? And how did you not get the top thing? By which I mean, in which way didn’t you get it? Like, you didn’t know what he means with it, or you don’t get why he’d be concerned about it, or what licking his butt has to do with it?”
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Um… and there she thought she was totally obvious.
“You asked me a question, answering that means I’m being good. Naughty quipping, that’s kind of foreplay, that’s on my initiative, it’s much more social and social is hard!”
Definitely more than done with dinner, she gets up and looks over at a mountain not too far away. It smells… nice. Well, nicer. And she thinks they were going that way and he’s been carrying her all the way, she should let him rest a bit.
“Top is one of those molly terms. I didn’t know anything about that! And why is it important? John was teasing him so hard about it, about having a male ego after all. I don’t get it.”
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He tips his head. “And being good is important? How about if I think naughty quipping for foreplay is being good?”
He considers the second part of her statement while their goal is finally properly in sight. “On Midgard, from what I remember, it’s important because it’s about power. At least the parts where I visited, a while ago, were really all about subjugating anyone with a cunt and a pair of tits. So, if you have a cock, you’re the master, if you have a cunt, you’re the slave. Which means sex and penetration becomes an act of power and dominance. It was all over the literature, that association. All over the stories, the plays, the language.
“So, what that means is that, if you’re someone with a cock, so socially supposed to be the master, and you let someone put their cock into you… Well. Penetration is dominance. You’re letting another guy dominate you. You’re taking the inferior female role, but you have a cock, so you’re throwing the whole dumb system into question.
“And there’s your concerns with your Quincy and John: Quincy’s saying ‘I’m in power. I’m not the subjugated one.’ Your John is saying: ‘oh, hey, so you do care about that, even if you’re giving the impression of bucking the system’.”
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“That sounds like something John would get but I don’t. He always says something about male hands for protecting, not for hurting. His father beat his mother to death, he’s a bit stuck on that I think.”
While she keeps walking on and thinking about Caliban’s words, she takes his hand. That makes it easier for her to keep up, her feet are so heavy and his stride is so much longer than hers.
“And… well, I know all about women having to obey. I thought that’s just how it goes. I’m just a woman, the man would know better. The demon used that, my men were so angry about it. Quincy said I don’t have to listen to any man who doesn’t do his responsibilities towards me and… I like that much better. It’s been feeling so good with them. And you are sweet like they are, too, so I’ll try to be good for you. I like being good for my swarm. It feels, well, like the most important thing in the world. So I’ll try to quip, I guess.”
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“Yeah, that’s that system- you’ve a cunt, or you look like you’ve a cunt, or you’re assumed to have a cunt, therefore you need to mind your place and make yourself small.” He looks down at her, and feels surprisingly fond. “How dare you have fangs and not play by the rules- or not even see the rules.” He thinks about it some more.
“I’d say you don’t have to listen to any man at all, or any woman, for that matter. You’re your own puppy, do whatever the fuck you want, whenever you can and there’s no one there who can stop you. Being good for men is kind of what that system wants from you? But if that’s important to you, go for it. Don’t buck it just to be contrary, that’s letting it control you just as much.”
He looks down at where she’s holding on to his hand. Her own are so tiny in comparison! As are her strides, she’s all but skipping to keep up with him.
“You want back up?”
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“I am small, just the right size for Quincy to put his head on mine when I cuddle up on him. But I know what you mean… Also about doing what I want. John said that, too. About expectations and me getting to be the monster in the story if that’s what I want. He said he’ll always love me for my drac, not for any mask.” Stroking her fingers over his, oh night, he’s so huge next to her, she chuckles. “And I don’t want you to feel like you have to carry me just because I’m small, just because a man is supposed to be big and strong. I’m a puppy, I’m normally really good at this running thing.”
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“You are, in fact, a tiny puppy,” he agrees. “It’s not about having to carry you, though. Now, Aesir society has its own hangups about men and women and penetration, which probably look similar on the surface to you. Fates know that when I went to Midgard, I at first thought I got it. That’s what made it stick out so much how much it’s not about bodily integrity and self-sufficiency, but about who serves whom.
“And you’re perfectly self-sufficient, you’ve proven that already, my legs are just longer than yours. Plus, you’re not likely to be insulted at me offering. Like an Aesir would be.”
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His words sound so nice, even she can appreciate that, and because of it, she wants to make sure she thinks them through enough. From where she doesn’t have to think about walking.
Easy, just leave her hand in his, turn rat and run up his arm to lounge back out on his shoulders.
“I’d never be insulted about you wanting to care for me! We run together, we fought together, you made promises to make Gregory vanish and get me Radu! My dog fishie! But I think Quincy would understand your Aesir. It’s really, really important to him that nobody pushes care on him. The demon got anger off him by always making him explode with ‘I can take care of myself’. Hm, he is very self-sufficient, but really, he does like being pampered. Do you get that?”
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Well, that’s one way of getting up to his shoulder. He briefly wonders what would have happened if he’d mistaken her for this bite-sized snack and tried to eat her before knowing anything about her- would she turn back in between his teeth? Probably turn to fog, he decides.
Now that would’ve been an amusing way to meet.
Anyway.
“I believe I do. Being pampered is a choice you make. It’s… optional. Having someone pushing care on you is…” He bares his teeth at the thought. “Them saying they think you’re weak. Helpless. Incapable. Can’t survive by yourself, can’t look after yourself. Prey.”
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“My strong, helpful, capable Quincy survived years on the streets while the police had it out for him.”
Silly, anybody who thinks Quincy is weak is very silly indeed. Darcy huffs, tries her best to sound like Quincy when he does it, and just shakes her head. “Also, he’s much better at hunting than I am! Well, hunting humans, I’m better at being John’s hunting wolf. I don’t even chew too much on most of what he shoots anymore when I retrieve it from the underbrush.”
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“But where’s the fun in that?” Caliban asks, because, really… where’s the fun in that? “Isn’t chewing the point of hunting?”
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“Well, he lets me chew on the things that couldn’t be prepared much anyway, but you know, raw meat is bad for humans, and if I chew on the bird, we can’t use the feathers for art, either. It’s much better if we decide together what I can chew on.”
With a snicker, she adds, while giving his still untamed beard a look: “Also Quincy says I’m not allowed to kiss him before I brushed my teeth after I chew on something dead.”
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Caliban snorts. “Prissy. How very fae of him.” He grins as it reminds him of Faomir and prodding him into an exasperated look with his unrefined ways. Which, being fae, obviously Faomir enjoys. (And no, he doesn’t see anything wrong with a spot of flirting with a friend.)
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Prissy is definitely something her sang du coeur is, but she never associated it with his fae ancestry. Actually, that nearly feels weird to her. “I don’t know, his sister got all cold and logical after their grandfather abducted her. It freaks Quincy out bad. She has so little emotions. Him being prissy is all emotions, he goes green at some things I do, he’s always hissing about all kinds of stuff, and we endlessly tease each other over food anyway. He’s vegetarian although I’m much more about animals. He says it makes him very undignified if he eats it.”
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“Exactly, the fae I know love showing off their emotions with being prissy.” He thinks about it for a moment, but, nope- “They’re not vegetarian, though. That must be a your-Quincy thing. Of course, I know Asgard fae, so there’s the whole slavery thing and showing favour by sharing good parts of your hunt and what have you. Not sure whether that makes any difference.”
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“He’s more than what his parents are, so he can have his very own special needs. Just means I eat the meat off his portion if we are out for food somewhere! Not as if John doesn’t have to eat both our desserts. Sweet things, ew!”
There are sweet things she likes, though, like caring for her men, and he liked it earlier when she took care of his hair, so, getting her comb back out, she goes to work on his beard. It’s totally the wrong comb. John has one for his beard, well, in preparation for his beard, but she wouldn’t ever point that out.
Luckily, her rat clawsies will do just fine! Probably easier for Caliban to walk while seeing where he’s going, anyway.
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